


Emergency Break

by his_valentine



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Piss Desperation, do not read, it goes in the mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/his_valentine/pseuds/his_valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deacon held it for way too long, but don't worry, Nick Valentine is on the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is gross, don't read

They'd been on the road, at the same brisk pace, for several hours now. They'd tried to stop about a half hour ago, only to discover that the Courser, with his two synthetic blood hounds, were still hot on their trail. Even now, the unmistakable baying could still be heard on the wind.

"Don't know when they started making dogs, but... dammit. We won't be safe until Goodneighbor, at least, and even that's debatable." Deacon glanced over his shoulder at the runaway synth trailing after them, "How're you holding up, A4?"

"Fine, I guess," the synth responded, hand gripped onto his scavenged pistol like a lifeline. "Will I be running, like this, forever?"

Deacon didn't want to say no, didn't want to give an answer when even he wasn't sure if he was lying or not, so he didn't respond immediately.

"No, you won't be," Nick insisted, instead, and Deacon breathed a sigh of relief, because he could say it without sounding unsure. "That's why we're helping you. We're gonna show you where you can go. Places that even the Institute can't reach. Come on, kids, we're almost there."

Deacon wished, not for the first time, that he was a synth himself, or at least still as young as Nick seemed to think he was. Neither Nick nor A4 seemed to be slowing or showing any other signs of extended physical activity, but even 'almost there' felt like too much for Deacon to comprehend, after everything they'd went through to protect A4 today.

It didn't help that his bladder was going to explode long before he got there, either way.

They continued on. A4 wouldn't talk, not without a prompt, and Nick turned and shushed them when Deacon tried to ask the synth about what his new name might be. He'd have to find another way to distract himself, he realized.

He decided to try and think about the old book he'd recently read, one with only the beginning and the end still intact. He'd taken to reimagining the middle of it while trying to not think of other things, making up his own filler each time.

The main character dies near the end, and he was just getting to that point when there was a sudden sharp pain in his abdomen. He paused, mid-step, and he must have groaned as well, because Nick stopped and turned to him, worry written across his face. "You alright, kiddo? Think you can hold up until we get to Goodneighbor?"

"I'm fine," he bit out, before realizing his tone only garnered the rise of one disbelieving eyebrow from Nick. Deacon could feel the color rising to his cheeks as he explained, quietly, "It's just... I gotta go."

"Go?" Nick echoed, unsure, "Where? I thought we were both bringing A4 to Goodneighbor." The way he said it, so cluelessly, made Deacon let out a short chuckle, though he stopped just as quickly when the movement jostled his bladder.

He placed a hand over where he could feel it, hoping that would help communicate the issue as he clarified, "No, go as in... you know. Number one. Come on, I know you get it."

The embarrassed look that crossed Nick's face showed that he did just then. "Oh, well, I..." a thought occurred to him, "but the dogs might find it."

"Why do you think I've been holding it?" Deacon snapped, then rubbed a hand over his face self-consciously, jostling his glasses a bit. "Sorry, it's just... it's starting to kinda hurt, you know?"

"Why did we stop?" A4 asked, all by himself, after noticing that they'd paused for more than a moment this time. They both turned to him, surprised by his initiative.

"Human issues," Deacon said quickly, before Nick could go into any detail. "Which gives me an idea - I can go use my 'human issues' to get this guy off the trail... just keep going, I'll get him turned back around when those dogs start following my scent."

It sounded like a great idea to Deacon, even if he'd only thought of the plan 2.5 seconds ago out of desperation. Those always were his best plans, anyway. Once they gave him the go ahead...

"Absolutely not," Nick deadpanned. He even crossed his arms to show his displeasure about the idea. "We've barely escaped as it is, and that was 3 on 1 odds. I'm not going to let you get caught by a Courser by yourself. We're supposed to protect A4 _and_  each other."

"Well, I'm being honest - for once - when I tell you that I'm not gonna make it to Goodneighbor. I don't know that I can even make it down the block, anymore." he gazed past Nick and down the street, just to see the distance in question. His bladder throbbed urgently and regularly now, ever since he'd stopped to talk about it.

Nick stared at him, eyes narrowing in thought. "I have an idea," he said warily, "but it might be even worse than yours."

Deacon gingerly shifted over, to lean against an intact parking meter. That way, he could try to curl in on himself slightly, just enough to keep it at bay. "Well, at this point I'm willing to hear you out, even if that last part worries me."

"A4?" Nick called out, and the synth turned to him fully, having already been listening in. "Keep a look out, this shouldn't take long. As for you, 'Deacon,'" he always said Deacon's name like that, calling attention to its fictitious nature, "come with me."

"I don't need you to hold my hand," Deacon joked, ignoring the way his whole body heated up. Nick just turned to the nearby burnt-out office building, waving Deacon after him as he went inside. Deacon held his breath and took a step after him. Nothing disastrous happened, so he began to follow after Nick with an awkward, waddling power walk.

Nick was waiting for him along the back wall of the closest office, well away from the windows that hadn't caved in and gotten blocked off. Deacon stopped at the doorway and gripped onto the frame tightly, taking a moment to compose himself again after the jostling movements of walking even that short while.

"Seriously," he outright whined, grimacing when Nick smirked at his tone, "what's the plan?"

"I'm going to hold it for you, since you can't," Nick explained carefully, moving back toward Deacon as if he would startle.

It was Deacon's turn to misunderstand, "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but how are you gonna manage that?"

Nick lowered himself, carefully, to his knees in front of Deacon, and then looked up at him and said, "Unzip your fly."

Deacon was glad for his sunglasses, because he could feel his eyes practically pop out of his head at the suggestion. "You can't be serious," he insisted.

Nick raised a brow as if it was a challenge. "When have _I_ ever bullshitted _you_?" he reminded Deacon, which he had to concede was true.

"You're right," Deacon said, "this plan is even worse than mine." Despite his words, Deacon found his hands acting against him, yanking open his fly desperately. "Don't think I have a choice anymore, though. Open up, then."

Nick rolled his eyes before he reached out and tugged at Deacon's pants, pulling them down just enough to help Deacon fish himself out of the front. "Not a word of this, afterwards," he warned lowly.

"Hey, you _can_ trust me to keep a s-secret..." Deacon stammered and trailed off the moment Nick's mouth actually closed around the tip of his dick. Nick then stayed still, gazing up at him expectantly.

Deacon squeezed his eyes closed, humming to himself to try and drown out the reality of the situation as he relaxed. All at once, the floodgates opened, and Deacon had to lean heavily against the doorframe so he wouldn't sink to his own knees in relief.

The sound of his own low groan ringing in his ears brought the blush back full-force.

Nick, for his part, kept up with the flow dutifully, unblinking synth eyes regarding Deacon calmly. Deacon chanced a glance down at him before slamming his eyes back shut.

Deacon mumbled an apology as the flow began to lessen, distinctly aware of the seconds ticking by as his bladder emptied itself into Nick's mouth. He wondered, briefly, if the synth had a sense of taste, but figured he wouldn't ask, not in this context anyway.

Once he was finished, Nick startled him again as his tongue swiped over the slit of Deacon's tip, cleaning off the last drops before he pulled away. Deacon stared at him, a little lost, as Nick rose to his feet and brushed his knees off. "Better?" Nick coaxed.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, I guess," Deacon responded. Nick nodded and then moved past him, heading for the door that led outside. Deacon took that as a cue to make himself presentable again and follow after. "So... a fetish, or just a favor between friends?"

"Not a word," Nick reminded him, just as A4 noticed their reappearance. The synth jogged over to them. "Anything?" Nick asked as he approached.

"I think they gave up. Do they do that? I haven't heard the dogs again. What if..."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Deacon interrupted the synth's worries prematurely.

"Gifthorse?" A4 echoed, looking confused.

"If anything, that story is more about why you should," Nick said. Deacon shrugged, making a mental note that he'd have to ask Nick about that story later. "But, I agree. Let's just keep going."

"Is he gonna be okay?" A4 asked, motioning to Deacon.

They both answered at the same time in the affirmative, and then regarded one another with a look that was lost on the young synth asking them.

Shortly, they set off again, A4 in between Deacon, who had taken up point now that he was unencumbered, and followed by Nick, whose enhanced hearing ensured that nothing was following the group anymore.

The rest of the trip was startlingly uneventful, all things considered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk about what happened and then more stuff happens.

To be quite frank, Deacon had found it hard to look Nick in the eye for a straight week after the incident. Luckily, his sunglasses kept that from being too obvious.

His reaction was not borne of any loss of respect, nor disgust. Rather, it was that those glowing yellow eyes made him remember it far too distinctly. The sense of relief coupled with shame, topped off with the long list of taboos that had been crossed off at that moment.

He'd never figured out Nick's opinion on the matter, either. The first few times he'd looked at the synth's face, before he got nervous and stopped doing so, he had been looking for... something. Some sort of tell or hint at what his intentions toward Deacon consisted of.

If it had been something sexual, like Deacon had joked about at the time, Nick made no further moves toward him. It didn't even seem like the detective particularly favored him over the rest of their ragtag group of misfits.

In fact, Deacon noticed near the end of that week, it seemed like Nick was avoiding him. Not blatantly enough for anybody else to notice, but they had worked together more than once in the past. Enough that Deacon knew Nick was normally gregarious to a fault with any and everybody.

He walked past the lounge area, a spot near the edge of Sanctuary where a fire pit had been set up beneath a vented tarp canopy. A selection of scavenged chairs and loveseats circled the now-smoldering embers.

It was late, and most of the citizens had turned in for the night, so there was no need for the fire pit to blaze any longer. Still, the dying glow provided just enough light for Deacon to catch the silhouette of a single fedora-wearer seated lengthwise along one of the small sofas. He paused, but didn't turn his head. Another benefit of the glasses was that he could use his peripheral vision to look at things while appearing to face somewhere else.

With only a quick glance he noticed the piece of paper that the figure held, as it was illuminated further by a second light that cast it in artificial gold. There was really only one person who would be capable of reading in the middle of the night, much less by the light of their own eyes.

Deacon firmly told his ego to go take a hike, because he had to get to the bottom of all of this, and then strode over to Nick. "Hey, whatcha reading?" he asked once he was close enough. Too close, apparently, because Nick abruptly sat up when Deacon first spoke, only to turn and stare accusingly at him once he realized he wasn't being jumped.

"If I had a heart to skip when I'm startled, you would be the death of me," Nick murmured.

Deacon shrugged. "I've told you, and everybody else besides, that I don't mean to do that. It just happens, I accidentally sneak everywhere. Boo!" as he finished, he made his best impression of a scary Halloween monster with his hands.

"I can normally start to hear footsteps from a block away... just not yours. I don't know how you do it," Nick said, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Well, the truth is-" Deacon began, but Nick immediately let out an amused scoff, so he cleared his throat theatrically and started over, "-the truth is that I have magnet shoes. I'm always floating just a tiny bit above the ground."

"That's not how magnets work," Nick informed him with a sort of faux politeness, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Weren't you initially asking about this, though?" he lifted the paper he'd still been hanging onto, shaking it for emphasis.

Deacon instinctively reached for it, but Nick was just as quick to extend it out in front of him, just out of reach. "This is just a letter that was sent to me. Just me, I've noticed, despite the sender being our mutual acquaintance, Arthur. What did you tell him about yourself, 'Deacon'?"

Arthur was A4's new name, but he had declined the memory wipe after Nick had aired his misgivings about the process upon arrival to Dr. Amari's workspace. Both the good doctor and Deacon had tried to change his mind, but the kid had taken a shine to Nick's point of view and ultimately decided to 'stay himself.' What were they supposed to do, manhandle him into the Memory Lounger?

"I told him that I was a wandering synth, that's all," Deacon replied, a little defensively. "You shouldn't have told him where you've been staying, where we've all been staying-"

"Look behind you," Nick said, motioning that way. Deacon didn't turn, but he sighed, already knowing how Nick would try and defuse his paranoia. "The lights that the Survivor insists on, the regular traders going in and out... Sanctuary isn't a secret. If the Institute is even half as diabolical as Piper's information suggests, they know exactly where we are, and they're just biding their time."

"...that's a comforting thought," Deacon said, and then sighed. "Hey, can I ask something else?"

"How about you take a seat, first, so I don't feel hovered over?" Nick said, and Deacon only then realized he had still been leaning over the back corner of the couch Nick took up. He came around and sat in the armchair that was nearest. "There we go. Now, what's on your mind?"

Deacon thought back on that situation a week earlier, trying to figure out another angle to come at it from - straight asking him would only make him clam up about the whole incident again. "The thing about the gift horse. I didn't know there was a story to it, I just figured it was one of those old pre-war sayings that made no sense."

"Well, I can't say I remember the details, this was ancient history, even back in m-" he caught himself, "back in Nick's time. Anyway, the short version goes like this - the Greeks needed a way into the city of Troy, and so they constructed a massive wooden horse and hid men inside of it."

Deacon had leaned forward expectantly, intent on Nick's recounting of the tale. "Yeah?" he prompted.

"Then they, ah, presented it to the Trojans, as a gift. They accepted it and took it into the city."

"Really? Just like that?" Deacon sat back and thought about it. "It really must have been simpler times, for them to not suspect anything."

"Yeah, I guess so. That next night, the Greeks that were hidden in the horse, they went and opened the gates for the rest of the army. That's how Troy fell." Nick looked to him for some sort of reaction. Deacon shook his head almost disbelievingly.

"So that's why you said we should," Deacon said flatly.

"So, was that it? You just wanted a quick history lesson?" Nick asked. Before he could catch himself, Deacon shook his head. Nick looked a little startled. "Oh? Something else on your mind?"

"Do you taste?" Deacon spat out quickly. Nick stiffened, staring at Deacon. Slowly, he placed the letter down, onto the table in front of them.

"This is about what happened on the way to Goodneighbor," Nick murmured, "but the real question is, why are you bringing it back up?"

"I'm just," Deacon searched for a word, "curious, why you'd... offer something like that."

"We needed to figure out a solution," Nick explained, but casted his eyes away nervously.

"So do you normally go around...?" Deacon trailed off, needling him.

"No," Nick was quick to rise to the bait. Deacon crossed his arms and smirked.

"So I'm special, then, if you wouldn't do it for just anybody," he said smugly. Nick glowered at him.

"What are you getting at, Deacon? You always have an angle," he said lowly, almost as if to himself.

"You wound me, Valentine," Deacon lamented, uncrossing his arms in order to place a hand over his heart for effect. Nick just stared some more.

Deacon had lowered his guard, just enough to try and return the stare. As soon as he locked eyes with the synth, though, Deacon remembered the last time that same careful gaze was set upon him, as if waiting for something else to happen.

He'd thought about it before, but only when he was by himself, because he'd find himself getting lost in the thought. His overactive imagination was all too eager to provide 'what if' scenarios that seemed to drag on longer than the initial memory.

What if Nick had wrapped his lips around more than the head. What if he had gotten hard afterwards, like he'd almost thought he would. What if, then, Nick pulled back to say, "Deacon. Deacon? Hey, Deacon, you okay there?"

Deacon shook himself out of his daydream. Nick was scrunching up his face at him. "Deacon, did you hear me at all? I was asking what other reasons you had to bring it... up..." Nick's eyes had flicked downward before he trailed off. "I think I can see why," he stated surely.

His blood running cold, Deacon panicked and grabbed a throw pillow, shoving it over his lap. "I can explain that! I was thinking-"

"-about what happened. Between us," Nick finished for him. "I can't say I expected anything... more to come of it. Certainly not this." Deacon made eye contact again. The sudden spark in Nick's eyes had to be a trick of the camp fire, a sudden flare.

"So it _was_ a fetish thing?" Deacon blurted out, at a loss. He watched Nick swing himself so that he sat more upright in the couch.

"The fetish isn't what you think," Nick told him, emboldened by Deacon's more subconscious reactions. "My mouth has the most sensors out of my entire body. I can taste things, by the way, just not the way you do. You need to drink more water."

The moment Nick had started to mention it, Deacon's hands tightened on the pillow in his lap as his gaze was drawn to the mouth in question. "Oh," he said, simply.

"Do you want me to take care of that for you?" Nick asked, his voice growing more gentle. Deacon nodded, and Nick chuckled and pat the seat next to him. "Come here, so your back is to the settlement."

"Ok," Deacon agreed in a small voice, standing. He still held the pillow in front of himself nervously. "It's been a while since I've... you know. Done anything with somebody I see more than once. Don't like to get attached."

As he explained himself, he edged around the fire pit and set himself next to Nick gingerly. Nick took the pillow away and scooted closer, putting his undamaged right hand on Deacon's thigh. "You're not going to run off on me, are you?" he asked.

"No! No," Deacon assured him, "for starters, you're _the_ ace detective. If anybody could find me, it'd be you. Secondly, you- oh," Nick had chosen that moment to squeeze slightly, before sliding his hand up the other man's leg.

"It's nice to be flattered," Nick said, turning more toward him so that he could also use his other hand to pop the button to Deacon's fly. "Get these off," he said firmly, pulling on the open flap of his jeans. He then pulled away briefly to remove and set aside his hat.

"Oh, yes sir," Deacon said as he hastily shoved them past his knees until he could kick them down to his ankles. Just the sensation of freeing himself made Deacon's cock throb. He keened as Nick's hand wrapped around it.

"A bit of a grower, aren't you? Liar through and through," Nick teased, but just as Deacon registered the jab enough to retort, Nick was already leaning over. "Let's see if I can..." he said, and then his mouth was sliding over the head of Deacon's dick once again.

A metal hand started to dig into his thigh on the other side. Deacon wanted to lean his head back and moan, loud enough for all of Sanctuary to hear, but withheld himself. Instead, he just rasped out, "Oh hell, Nick," as the synth's head bent down further. Slick tubing pressed in on him from every side, warmed by Nick's internal workings.

He didn't gag or choke, even with the angle, before his lips were wrapped around the base. Deacon finally found a use for one of his own hands as he gently massaged the back of Nick's neck. "You're good," he added on.

Nick groaned quietly around Deacon. Deacon instinctively thrusted before stammering out an apology. In return, Nick just made another low pleased noise, his throat buzzing with the effort.

"You're actually getting off on this," Deacon said, his hand tightening slightly on the back of Nick's neck. He started to roll his hips, shallowly at first. He realized quickly that there was no gag reflex to worry about when it came to the synth.

Nick pulled up and slathered his tongue over the head for a while, before he slid back down. Deacon exhaled roughly, his hips starting to thrust and buck. He bit his lip as his toes started to curl. "Damn, I'm close, last chance to stop before..."

Nick's hands on his thighs were pushing them further apart as the detective moaned, almost too loudly. The vibrations that traveled up his throat were enough to break the last of Deacon's restraint.

Deacon leaned forward, over the back of Nick's head. He let out a low, guttural groan as he felt Nick swallowing down his cum, that synthetic throat ribbing milking him dry. As he came to, he realized that he had been holding Nick's head down either way, but the synth didn't seem to mind.

All the same, he let go and sat back up, still half dazed. Nick swallowed one last time as he pulled away and sat up as well. Deacon tried to disguise another ragged exhale as a chuckle. He quivered and quieted as Nick's metal hand grabbed at his jaw and turned his head to face him. In another instant, Deacon was stripped of his sunglasses.

Deacon's eyes immediately flashed wide with panic. "Hey! Gimme-" he made to reach for them, but Nick casually dropped them behind the sofa. Deacon made to scramble up over the back of the couch, but expected Nick to pull back.

Instead, Nick pushed forward, keeping him pinned to the couch entirely. He pressed into his personal space, stared at him, and then kissed him. Deacon felt himself relax into the slow, lazy, almost romantic drag of Nick's lips against his.

Nick's hand was at the small of his back, guiding him to lie back. Deacon allowed himself to be led into a bowed dip. Nick was hovering over him, chastely smooching him. The moment Deacon let out a small moan, though, Nick licked into his mouth.

Deacon reached up to hang onto him, eagerly deepening their kissing. He realized, shivering, that he could distinctly taste himself, since Nick's own synthetic saliva tasted more like the man-made water-based lubricant it consisted of.

Nick eventually pulled away, but not before leaving Deacon's wig half-cocked and his lips swollen. "Show me what to do for you," Deacon rasped out.

"Hmm. Maybe next time. Anyway, isn't it about time for you to go to bed?" Nick said, sounding only a little lower than usual. Deacon's nose scrunched up, a motion that reminded him that there were no sunglasses on his face.

He averted his eyes, "I'm not a kid, dude," he said.

"I'm aware," Nick replied, "but you are human. Don't worry about me, not this time. I can do it myself."

"I wanna watch, at least," Deacon blurted, because it was the first thing he'd thought and going with his gut had seemed to work so far with Nick.

Nick looked almost startled. "Why?" he asked, as if the reason wasn't obvious. Deacon shook his head in disbelief.

"Wanna see you actually cum," he offered, hoping it would be enough. Nick's eyes flashed brighter for a moment, before he collected himself and shook his head.

"...but still. We'll save that for next time," Nick said as he stood, collecting up his hat. "I'm not a one date and hook up kind of guy."

Deacon pouted his best, "What's that mean?" he asked and waited for Nick to explain. Instead, Nick just chuckled and turned to walk away. He scrambled off and behind the couch after him, yanking his pants up at the same time.

However, he stopped to grab his sunglasses. He looked over the lenses, nodding at the pre-war material that hadn't scratched or scuffed one bit. He put them back on his face and waited a bit, trying to appear nonchalant.

It wouldn't do to have him following after Nick like a brute who couldn't take a hint, with his fly still down at that. As the thought crossed his mind, he zipped it back up.

He then glanced back to the fire pit, noting that it still glowed. Barely, but if the breeze picked up at all, it could start up again. There was a prepared bucket of water left near where Nick was sitting. Deacon quickly used it to douse the last of the heat.

He left under the cover of midnight's darkness some time later, wondering if Nick had meant it when he had said there would be a next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I TOLD U IT WAS GROSS


End file.
